


Chapter 1

by Adge



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adge/pseuds/Adge





	Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stand Still Stay Silent](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/514034) by Minna Sundberg. 
  * Inspired by [Stand Still Stay Silent](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/514043) by Minna Sundberg. 

# Chapter 1

Lake-girt Keuruu. In the cold night  
The snow-caped ranks of regimented  
Barrack hut-rows bare of comforts  
A stark welcome bestow on Lalli,  
Thin-limbed night-scout, unknowing pawn  
In the far game of the four Icelanders,  
At his dawn return. On his door he found  
A gentle note to join his sibs,  
Two Hotakainens, technical skald  
Eager Tuuri, and Onni mage,  
Wary dreamer, at the water-gang.  
As the stream-car frets, strategist thinker  
Taru Hollola her team members  
Welcomes together. Ward-mage Onni,  
Protective sib, to Taru pleads  
That his two kinfolk, Tuuri and Lalli,  
Must not be sent to the Silent Lands;  
But Tuuri skald, tene in Keuruu  
Long enduring, leaps at the chance  
For a life released. Lalli night-scout  
Brother unkenning, unbriefed, unsure  
And unequipped, queries the purpose  
In Taru’s call. Protective sib  
Onni, wary, warned by his asking  
Attempts again the two to bar  
From the wild project, so wise Taru  
Strategic skald, in the team offers  
Onni a posting; panic locks him  
In sure Keuruu – in shame he frees  
Lalli and Tuuri. The lake-boat sails  
On the gadwall’s track to the gates closing  
The high lich-wall that lets horror  
From the safe lands; sight of the outpass  
Allures Tuuri, tempting with hope  
Of liberty, risk and a life unchained.  
Her first far glimpse of the fiend-haunts  
Disappoints her; no peril looms  
In the dull braes. Unbriefed, Lalli  
Again attempts to get why the team  
Brought him away, so breakfast's shared  
At the refectory board, and a first briefing  
From Taru skald, talk encouraging  
Of the tasks ahead. Tuuri, eager,  
Sweeps out her tales of Swedish folk  
But Lalli hopes to homeward go,  
And cease to endure his seasick voyage.  
So Taru wise, strategic skald  
Describes their way on the water road:  
Keurusselkä’s cold gentleness,  
Her soft lake-airs scented with pines;  
A hundred isles, heron-sentried,  
Close her southward; then cleansed gore-pools,  
Bleak wilderness, waters tainted  
With charred splinters, and channels close-set  
To piers and quays, purposeless relics  
Of brighter days; then the brisk current  
Through tight reaches where the river frets  
The hoar-dusted trees of Hongonselkä,  
Into Paloselkä where pintail sleep.  
In Mustaselkä the meeting waters  
Mingle their hues in the mere-car’s wake  
As the steamer’s earl steers her southward,  
Navigates lake-chain Näsijärvi –  
The long highway to the lost city,  
Tampere huge, terror infested;  
Past the tossing strait of Tammerkoski,  
Find the goose-road of falling water:  
Calm and verdant Kulovesi,  
The cataracts in Kutala’s maze,  
Rautavesi of the rich harvest,  
Vammaskoski care demanding,  
Leikovesi that legends know.  
Then run the cascade, past skeletal wards,  
Down the bouldered force that births a river:  
The testing stream that timber wealth  
Rides in convoy past ruins troll-blighted  
For merchants' pay in Pori's firth,  
Then ride salt-waves to assemble the team –  
But shutter-lids close the ship’s side-eyes  
And the ferry's cats enforce silence  
As the three voyagers their venture begin.  
The quietness lulls Lalli, sea-queasy,  
To teneless sleep; his two companions  
While time away in whisperless hush  
Overseen by cats, securely held  
In Vellamo's guard, virtuous Lady  
Of the running waters. They wend unscathed  
Through her power's grace to Pori hithe,  
Its wonings cleared of the worst dreads  
With Swedish help, so the swan's meadhall,  
Sanderling's joy, sea-wender's holt,  
Suomi’s threshold, Swedes' safe haven,  
Rest gives to farers. The river courser  
Hails a sea-drake, century-old  
Relic of days ere the Rash ended  
Shipwrights and yards. Yawning, its belly  
Gulps the lakefarer; a good welcome  
For the band of friends. Bidden by Taru  
They explore the ship, plump for sleepsteads,  
And their goods unpack as they gossip about  
Their next federate in far Sweden’s  
Björköfjärdin, Baltic fortress,  
Rail-head and port. Expecting kin  
And aid trysted, Emil, heart-sour  
Callow cleanser, on cobblestones drags  
His unhandy bag to the high entrance  
Of the steamer’s berth. The stairs he climbs  
To the waiting-room – wildered he spies  
Siv and Torbjörn, savant couple,  
His kin Västerströms, in the cosy hall –  
Not the cold rail-quay or the cobbled streets  
Where their aid lacked. Emil, wrathful,  
Demands the cause of his unmet tryst  
To know he arrived on the wrong day –  
Unschooled Emil scanted the map;  
One sun-turn had for the water-pass –  
Few enough hours for the Finns to cross  
The gull’s pleasance! Plainting Emil,  
No lodging booked, no bed reserved,  
Endures a night dozing on seats  
A deceitful book set on his face  
As long he slumbered. From litter of diners  
Beside his sleepstead, a sliding foodplate  
Defiles his tunic as fast in slumber,  
The minutes drift. At morningtide  
Over-late he wakes as the wave-traveller  
Berths at the landgang and disbarks the Finns;  
The friendly Swedes to the frommed guests  
Welcome extend. Wild-customed Lalli,  
Lone-scout noita, ignores their hands,  
Wants no greeting; wide-eyed Tuuri  
Gushing loudly over gorgeous Swedes,  
Points up Emil, apparel marred  
In his long sleep. Language hurdles  
In making friends mean that the team  
Neglect to track their train schedule;  
Far is the stand, over stones ice-glazed,  
Where the steel-courser loads its last riders –  
Hopelessly far. To hold their chance  
Tuuri commands mystified Lalli  
To run full tilt to the rail-coach door  
Forbidding to shut till his buddies come  
Faring to Mora. The folk carrier,  
Secure steel-horse, steam-borne castle,  
Wends through the land, windows unblinked,  
Proclaimed as safe by cleanser wight  
Emil swaggering Swedish success –  
But he sees the line of Lalli’s stare  
To his marred tunic – and retires to wash.  
Then food, and talk. Tuuri, eager,  
Looks for a troll, while Lalli and Emil  
Share cold distrust till they come to Mora.


End file.
